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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29931249">Spitballs and Sliders</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klauinax/pseuds/Klauinax'>Klauinax</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Blaseball (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baltimore Crabs (Blaseball Team)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:20:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,048</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29931249</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klauinax/pseuds/Klauinax</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A new player has joined the game x2!<br/>or: yeah jacoby just narrates *everything*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Spitballs and Sliders</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the grand scheme of things, quitting Blaseball was the smartest thing they never did. You'd think after the shit they went through they would've called it as soon as they hit Terra fucking Firma.</p><p>Sure, they were back. But every single one of them lost time up there. A Lot of it. You'd think that once they came back, people would give them some time. You'd think Life would give them some time. Someone should have told everyone that. Night one, Carcinization ran wild and Pedro almost died. Then the Tigers go and win their third championship and people have mental breakdowns left and right. Kennedy had an all-day meeting with Deb and the rest of the team had been right there too. Who knew if the Tigers were about to get taken for the next decade? Who knew if the Gods weren't going to try and clean up their little mistake while they were at it?</p><p>Brock Forbes adjusts the device wrapped around his arms and back. It's some kinda metal and spring deal. The screws were too tight on purpose, pressing into shell and threatening to crack the chitin. They called it 'The Rack', but really it was an old device for helping Carcinized kids and teens. Sometimes the shell grows too thick, or they have problems figuring out molting. Brock flexes and feels the pressure of steel on shell. It was good. It felt good. The feeling was grounding, more so even than touching the ground again. A lot of them had gotten a little fucked up Up There. At least he wasn't running away from exes like Luis and Pedro were.</p><p>Tosser tosses a ball up into the air, readjusts his hat, takes a sip from his coffee, and rolls his shoulder, all at the same time. The pitchers had gathered for some practice, as mandated by the popular vote. It wasn't the worst idea, really. Shake off the rust, get the signs fresh in your mind's eye, meet the new pitcher. Hat adjusted, he shifts blaseball to a pincher and checks the pitcher's groupchat. 10 minutes to go, and the newbie had confirmed the field. And as if on queue, Finn heelies up to the blittle league field they had reserved for practice flanked by a distinctly mom looking minivan.</p><p>Piling out of said van was... not what Tosser or Brock had expected in the slightest. Finn had told them a lot about this new pitcher. Apparently they had been friends before the 'Big Up' as he called it. Except... this lady was absolutely nothing like what Finn had described. Brock and Tosser both step up to show the lady some respect, because life sucked but you should always be kind to people when you can be. "Nice to meet you, and welcome to the Crabs. I'm Aldaberto Tosser, that's Brock Forbes." Brock cracks a smile full of gemstones, and Tosser can't help but roll his eyes. Always showing off.</p><p>"Charmed. Squid Galvanic, a pleasure to join the team." Light chitin coats each of her fingers, or maybe makes them up. Tosser offers her a blaseball and glove, only to get a quizzical arch of the eyebrow. "Uhh, nope. Not me thanks." The sound of Finn's snickering draws Tosser's attention, and Brock gives up the game by smacking Tosser's shoulder. "Chill, Tosser. She's our new batter. Brought her in to see the signs first hand and pull one over on you for shits and giggles."</p><p>"Ah, so you're not PoddestCast then."</p><p>"'Fraid not, dear." The smile on Squid's face was mischievous, like the Cheshire manifest. Tosser allows himself a little chuckle, letting some of the tension bleed off, and accepts that yeah, he was probably a little too wound up. "Alright, so where's the new guy then?"</p><p>Finn fishes out his cellphone and jacks the volume up in time to hear a voice over the speaker. "...aaaand rounding the corner is Jacoby Podcast, who isn't a blaserunner by trade and really shouldn't be running this late!" A cacophony of scuttling noises introduces Jacoby to the field, his many crab legs making a racket on the asphalt leading to the soil. "And he's safe!" A smattering of applause from the gathered Crabs prompts a few mock bows from Jacoby, and introductions are given around once again.</p><p>After setting up, Brock takes the mound opposite of Squid, flexing against The Rack as he readies a pitch. "Alright so; when it comes to catching for the Crabs, forget hand signs. You're gonna be blowing bubblegum bubbles to indicate certain pitches."</p><p>"Ah, yeah that makes sense. Fingers." A sage nod travels among the gathered Crabs, and Brock gives Squid a few chances to get used to it, before Squid asks about the real reason they've gathered here today. "So, I saw in the text we've got a new secret plan? What's all that about?" A shining grin from Brock invites Tosser up, much to the confusion of Finn and Jacoby, who seem to be sitting on the bench passing an empty cup back and forth as a pretend mic.</p><p>Squid's eyes follow the ball as it goes from Brock, to Tosser, to two of Tosser's other claws, back to Brock, then blinking in confusion as the ball screams past the strike box and hits the padded wall behind her. "Oh. Wait what?"</p><p>"Found some League rulings about people with multiple arms that were written by someone with no understanding of legal know-how." Brock winks, and Tosser works one of his shoulders. "So we're trying out something I saw a blasketball team do once. Little around the town action, maybe put a whistle track behind it to get into the vibe." A soft chuckle goes through the ones who get the reference, before training starts in earnest, each of the pitchers taking a chance to play against Tosser's many arms and for all of them to workshop new signs for special pitches.</p><p>It feels... almost like how it was before. Relaxed. 'Carefree'. Three of them could probably never play the game 'carefree' again, but just throwing like this, it got close. People, just throwing balls. Having a laugh at hijinks.</p><p>There are some shattered shells along the way, but compared to the Big Leagues, it was nothing.</p>
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